Underneath
by UselessBrush
Summary: Part one of a prequel story for Sasha and Tyreese, covering their time spent hiding out in neighbour Jerry's bunker, up until they later meet with Allen's group. Told mainly from Sasha's P.O.V.


She lay quietly in her bunk for a moment longer, tucked against the cold arch of steel at the bunkers edge. Moving awake, she put a hand out to touch it, tracing her fingers across 'TITAN', embossed in chunky bold font across the icy metal. More cold shot through her fingertips and rushed to her shoulders, shaking her more awake. She turned and twisted in her sheets, facing out into the shelter's main walkway. From the far end of its run, she heard the telltale trickle of hot water and smelt warm steam misting slowly toward her. From the other end of the shelter, she heard the agitated footsteps of whoever was on guard duty, pacing loudly at the hatch ladder.

Sasha twisted the last ache out of her body and yawned loudly, now definitely, definitively awake. She pulled the sheets back and swung both legs over her bunk edge and dropped to the grated floor below, her boot heels slapping loudly against the metal as she landed. The jolt brought her legs back to life, sending a pleasant tingle up along her spine.

"Morning,' she called out to the pacing guard at the entrance.

"Hm," managed the guard in return, barely acknowledging her.

She made no more effort with him, heading to the kitchenette instead. Guido had been a tough nut to crack from day one. In fact, she'd only learnt his name from Jerry two weeks after first meeting Guido himself. Jerry's exposition of Guido had been brief and succinct. He knew him from the range. He had once owned two houses and up until recently had enthusiastically followed college basketball. Sasha couldn't imagine Guido being enthusiastic about anything. But he was good with a gun, good on a run and stayed well clear of the hysterics others in the group were notorious for. For those reasons alone, Sasha estimation of Guido placed him above many of the others she shared her days with.

She turned into the kitchen nook, set away from the bunk rows and narrow walkway. Inside, she found Ned standing over the low set stove, emptying sachet after sachet of dehydrated food blocks and powders into two deep pans of simmering water. He drove a spoon into the mixtures, stirring both concoctions firmly, finally turning as he noticed Sasha standing beside of him.

"What can I do you for?" Ned asked, smiling broadly at Sasha as he offered her an empty canteen and spoon.

She stared and inspected the contents of both pans. Neither impressed her. Instead, she made toward a loose floor panel to the left of the tiny stove and flipped a metal hatch upwards. She fished into the opening and pulled out barely branded packets, quickly looking at the contents.

"Sure you wouldn't prefer a hot meal instead?" Ned asked, looking vaguely offended.

"What is it anyway?" Sasha asked, resetting the floor tile as she stood.

"Roast chicken," be began, proudly tipping the contents of the pan forward for her to see, "or chicken Teriyaki."

He tilted the next pan forward as he had done before, exposing a similarly indistinct soup of brown broth and industrial white cubes of dehydrated chicken.

"All tastes the same to me," she said unimpressed, taking a seat at the small dining nook, tipping the mixed contents of dried nuts and jerky onto the table in front of her.

The pair fell into a silence for a moment. Ned continued to stir at the stove as Sasha picked at the pile of dried morsels in front of her. To her left, Guido's agitated footsteps continued to sound out, and to her right the shower continued to hiss loudly.

"How long has she been in there?" Sasha finally asked.

"Ten minutes," answered Ned, "Maybe more. I've been preoccupied."

"We've got four people on a run. My brother. The last time he was out there, a walker nearly took a piece out of him. And she just..." Sasha's temper fizzled out as she took a deep breath out.

"What are you going to do? She's the big man's wife."

"She's not his wife, Ned," Sasha began. "I knew Jerry before all of this. Since I was a kid. I knew Kim too. Only ever showed an interest in Jerry when she needed something. Jerry's a good guy, the best; but he's an idiot. Never could see when he's being used by a pretty girl. Still can't now."

Ned was not standing over Sasha, glass in hand. She suddenly noticed just how tall he was, bending awkwardly forward at the shoulders.

"Go on," he offered, tilting the glass towards her, "Why should she get all the perks, eh?"

Sasha took the glass without even asking its contents and drank it deep. The familiar sickly sweet taste of sambuca snaked along her tongue and clang at the back of her throat. A quick disorientating rush shot through her brain and she felt a warm churn in her belly. She closed her eyes, then smiled.

"You got any more of that?" she asked.

"Maybe later," Ned replied, smiling. He turned back to the cooking nook and tucked the bottle away discreetly behind a list of similarly labelled bags of dried things. None looked particularly appealing.

"How long have they been gone?" Sasha asked of the group that had left to scout that morning.

"We're getting up to three hours. They said they'd be back in four. It's quiet up there."

"You went up there?"

"Just for a minute. With Guido. Jerry said there was more supplies in the house. I didn't see anything... I didn't see any of them."

Ned went quiet and went back to cooking. Sasha turned her own attentions back to the mixed platter of dried food in front of her. Of course it had been quiet up there, she thought silently to herself. There were out in the burbs after all. Ned had never strayed further than the nearest convenience store, and even that he'd always been under heavy guard. She on the other hand, had seen first hand what the true, broader picture looked like.

She hadn't retreated into the shelter immediately. It was days, weeks even, before her brother had managed to convince her their options were limited to a single choice for survival. In the months that had followed, they existed without much incident. But supplies were waning and no help had come.

At first, Sasha and the others had energised themselves with the hope that, tucked away discreetly underneath Jerry's back lawn, they had simply been missed by any rescue party. Back then, each and every one of them had fully entertained the idea of planes in the sky and buzzing safe zones only miles away. They had ventured up top occasionally, scouring the vacant houses of the neighbourhood for the luxuries Jerry's bunker didn't afford them. Ned's sambuca had been one such score. The houses were almost always empty, picked clean of supplies and left abandoned.

Sasha had always found the houses particularly eery, and had elected to keep watch at the porch whenever the group might pick through one. Mostly, the houses were empty. The group might make out with a stray prescription bottle or can of ground beef, perhaps a good knife or utensil for Ned. Sometimes, they might come upon a house's former owner. Mostly, they were dead, tucked snugly into their beds with a bullet wound to the head. Sometimes, they were forced to finish the job for those who'd ended their existence by other means. Sasha preferred her guard duty. If a walker approached, she'd dispatch it quickly and without incident. Brutal, bloody and anonymous.

The group hadn't ventured into the city beyond one single scouting mission, three months earlier. Six of them had set out in all, Sasha included, to scour the city for signs of other survivors. Back then, that plan had seemed sound. There supplies had been dwindling, but with careful rationing, the then group of nine had been set for at least another four months. Their arsenal and ammunition looked even healthier. They'd headed into the city that day full of confidence, prepared. Nobody had anticipated things were as bad as they were.

They'd tracked through into downtown Jacksonville when they came upon their first herd. 'Herd', that's what Jerry had called it anyway. It had later caught on, but Sasha had always thought that word too innocuous. Swarm. That sounded better. It was a swarm of them. A vicious mass of teeth and rotting flesh, their collective moans an agonising, unbearable roar.

They themselves had made no noise, but somehow one amongst the herd had spotted them. An agitated snarl set the whole thing in motion and within seconds, two hundred sets of dead teeth were snapping at them, growing closer. Jerry gave the order to retreat almost immediately, but nobody seemed to hear. Instead, the survivors opened fire on the advancing swarm of walkers, their impressive stockpile of ammunition quickly dwindling to nothing. Jerry and Sasha aside, none of the group had ever proved to be a keen shot and there'd never been the time or opportunity to put them to practice. Even in the chaos, Sasha took time to notice's her brother's own poor aim, cringing as he blindly fired off a full clip, the bullets whipping harmlessly passed their intended targets. With walkers now surrounding him, Tyreese threw the pistol to the floor and reached for the hammer at his side, lurching it high in the air before bringing its head down hard against the crown of his nearest attacker. The walker's forehead gave in easily, cracking before a thick spurt of black and purple spewed outwards. Tyreese raised his arm up again, bringing the hammer down three times in quick succession. And then twice more. Within a few seconds, a pile of motionless walkers lay at his feet. Sasha strained her eyes to focus and saw Tyreese panting in the middle of the mound of battered dead bodies. Four more walkers approached him and he raised the hammer again, his arm now shaking and exhausted.

"Tyreese!" she had called, grabbing his attention. Without words, she raised her pistol in the direction of his nearest attackers and began firing as he made his way toward her. She fired off another three shots, clearing a path for him until he was at her side. The two stood back to back, rotating in a circle until each had seen a complete three-sixty of the scene around them.

"Eight o'clock," Sasha said quickly, the pair still moving in a rotation. "Pharmacy's midnight."

Tyreese acquainted himself with the scene and honed his gaze in on Sasha's suggestion. There, between the trunk of one vehicle and the hood of another, cowered Larry, one of their group.

"I see him," Tyreese said, fishing a second, still loaded pistol from a hip holster. Fumbling with his left hand, he passed the weapon to Sasha, who tucked into her belt.

"Need to get rid of these guys first," she began, gesturing to the group of walkers that had now encircled the pair. "I can't get a shot."

Tyreese mumbled in agreement and she felt his spine arch against her own as he raised his arms once more, hammer in hand. She felt at her waist for the machete she had loaded into a makeshift scabbard that morning, pulling the blade out by its well wrapped handle and readied the weapon high. She faced the blade in the direction of the nearest walker's skull and brought it down in one quick movement, feeling satisfying jolt go through her arms as it splintered down through skull and then pushed easily down into the soft brain beneath. The walker flinched once, then went still for good. She pulled the blade upward, kicking the lifeless walker backwards as she turned to brace for the next strike. Behind her, she heard Tyreese grunt has he brought his hammer down again. And again, and again. Before her, two more walkers approached. She went for the nearest first, pushing it violently square in the chest, sending it backwards. It was aimless on the ground, struggling for its legs, snapping one of its feet off messily as it tried. The walker still on its feet moved in closer, but before its bony fingers could reach her she brought the machete down once more, slicing a portion of the things skull clean off. It slumped to the floor, leaving a thick smear of black blood and grime on the blade. She wiped the blade clean against her thigh, darkening the already stained denim of her jeans.

"Be right back," she assured her brother, as she took a few steps forward toward the walker she had floored only moments before. It hobbled towards her, trying to keep itself upright on the bloodied stump of its left leg. She moved in close, no more than two feet from it, before she charged for it in the chest again, sending it backwards to the floor once more. Quickly, she rushed it and brought the machete down on its face. She felt it tear all the way down to the gravel of the roadside.

The blade tore down through bone first, then the gristle and cartilage beneath, before slicing clean through the brain tissue. Finally, the blade hit the back of the skull. She braced herself and pushed her left knee against the walker's chest, splintering the last layer of bone until the blade hit the gravel of the road, then pulled the blade upwards in one quick movement. She took a brief half second to inspect the blade. Miraculously, the dull steel bore only a thick slick of dark brown. She dried each side of the blade against the thigh of her jeans once again and returned the machete to its scabbard.

"Sasha," Tyreese called from behind her, "We got to move!"

"I hear you," she responded calmly, turning in the direction of her brother. As before, he stood surrounded by a mound of lifeless corpses, all sporting a single impact wound to the skull.

She watched as Tyreese raised the hammer once again, its hammer covered in a thick coat of blood and bone fragments. A single walker approached him, then fell down quietly as Tyreese brought the hammer down in one clean motion. Beyond him, another thirty or so walkers were slowly advancing. There may have been more, but they all blended together into one mass of grey faces, torn and weathered fabric and dark brown bloodstains. She turned her gaze back toward Larry, still pincered between stalled cars and saw another ten walkers between him and herself. They were scattered enough, but more shuffled hungrily beyond them. Larry could have made the trip cleanly before the walkers crowded, but she knew it would take her a return trip to coax Larry out of hiding.

"Larry," she called as she headed towards him, reaching for the semi-automatic Tyreese had passed her moments before. "Get ready to move!"

She raised the weapon to firing position, shortened her stride and slowed down a little. Some fifty yards away, she could see Larry slowly emerging from his hiding place, clumsily bringing himself to standing with both arms outstretched. Walkers were within ten metres of him in all directions. He was still fumbling seconds later, shaking out a cramp in his right foot, cursing loudly about it. He hadn't even cared to crane his gaze at the dozen or so walkers that would soon be within biting distance of him.

"Sasha!" Tyreese called again from behind her, panic in his voice this time. She ignored him.

Larry was going to get himself killed if left to his own devices, there was no doubt about it. She moved quickly, breaking into a sprint to clear the last of the distance, firing three precise headshots at the walkers nearest to her. Reaching Larry, she grabbed at the chest of his shirt and brought him to standing.

"I'll cover you. You run," she instructed him bluntly, then pushed him forward into a sprint.

As Larry took off toward Tyreese, Sasha fired another two headshots, as precise as the ones before them. With a path cleared, she followed in Larry's footsteps, slipping the gun back beneath her belt as she reached for her machete. The fifty yards back in the direction of Tyreese seemed longer than the outward journey, and the path itself was slower.

Her previous estimates on the number of walkers now seemed woefully conservative. Sasha caught pace with Larry in less then ten seconds and by that time the swarm of walkers that had reformed with reinforcement. A dense mob of at least fifty had converged in the middle of the intersection to their left, each piling forward at something bleeding and screaming at the centre. Sasha grabbed Larry by the back of the shirt with her left hand and pulled him forward, launching into a run as the pair neared Tyreese.

She'd had to drag him the last few metres to Tyreese. He'd seemed impossibly heavy and she felt like collapsing when the pair had finally regrouped with her brother. There'd been no time for relief though. The agonising screams of one of their number had ceased now and the swarm of insatiable walkers had only grown. Quickly and quietly, Sasha inspected each pistol and the contents of her rifle. They had enough firepower to perhaps cut a path through the immediate crowd. If they could break through the herd and outpace it, they might have just stood a chance of getting out of the city in one piece. Getting back to the bunker was an entirely different matter. Odds were, Larry wouldn't see out the next thirty seconds. She herself was okay with that, but her brother was a different case entirely. Odds were, she herself would be lucky to last another sixty.

The three fell into a tight formation, back to back. Sasha handed Larry a semi-automatic. It was only half loaded and Larry wasn't much of a shot, but at close range he might be lucky enough to put a few walkers down. She took the pistol with the most rounds remaining for herself and kept it gripped firm in her left hand, the machete in her right. Behind her, Sasha felt Larry's anxious shoulders shifting nervously as he raised the gun to a firing position. She could already tell he was aiming too high. More reassuringly, she felt Tyreese's spine arch and shoulders lift as he raised his arm high once more, hammer in hand. The three of them turned in formation slowly, inching gradually in no particular direction. Walkers advanced from every direction, the sound and stench overwhelming.

A loud gunshot stirred the group into motion. It hadn't been Larry who had fired, Sasha would have felt him recoiling from the kickback. And she herself hadn't fired a single shot.

"There!" Tyreese said loudly, pointing the others toward an upturned goods truck some hundred metres away. A single figure stood atop the upturned truck, pacing it from end to end, rifle aimed at the swarm of walkers that surrounded the group.

Sasha strained her eyes further and made out that the figure was Jerry. She felt a quick flourish of relief, then snapped into action. Without speaking, she took aim at the nearest two walkers and fired two shots in quick succession. She broke into a half run, Larry and Tyreese falling in line behind her. Sasha fired again into the swarm, bringing down another three walkers, before picking up speed to clear the rest of the distance toward the truck.

As the truck came into focus, she could see at least a dozen walkers had splintered from the swarm and had now surrounded Jerry. A persistent few had managed to haul themselves onto the truck's upturned edge, trying to pull themselves over. Jerry kicked at their grasping fingers, but his efforts had no effect and the walkers pulled themselves higher, unbothered by his stamping boots. Changing tact, Jerry shouldered his Winchester and reached for his own machete, bringing its sharp edge down in four violent strikes. The climbing walkers fell back to the ground, now separated from their fingers, which still clang lifelessly to the side of the truck. Reaching for his rifle, Jerry took aim and sniped the nearest of the walkers to Sasha and the others, clearing a path to the truck. Sasha took the next shot and then four more. By the time the three reached the edge of the upturned truck, the noise had attracted yet more walkers to replenish the ones they had put down. Tyreese helped pushed Sasha atop the truck, followed by Larry. As soon as she had found her footing, she had resumed firing into the crowd of walkers as Tyreese at last hauled himself onto the top of the vehicle.

Firing the last of the clip into the crowd, Sasha swapped out her pistol for the identical one in her holster. She had five shots left, another four rounds for her rifle. To her right, Larry fired aimlessly into the crowd of walkers beneath them. Between rounds, Sasha reached in and grabbed at his wrist. He relaxed his grip on the gun and she took it from him, silently holstering it. She turned to face Jerry:

"Who we missing?" she asked him, as she watched his eyes narrow to focused slits as he surveyed the streets around him.

"Pam," he said simply. "That was Eddie screaming."

Sasha shook her head and cursed. She'd liked Eddie. Everybody had. That death had been messy. No dignity in that.

"There."

Jerry directed Sasha's gaze towards a group of eight walkers that had gathered around a battered jeep some hundred yards away. The walkers tore violently at the vehicle's windshield and passenger door, smearing the dirty glass with dark blood and rot. But through the grime, there was a distinct flourish of blonde hair. Jerry fired a single shot in the direction of the car, taking the cap of a walker's skull clean off. In that moment, a pinkish face framed with yellow hair came into view through the passenger window. It was Pam.

Jerry aimed his rifle once more and fired two more shots, taking down two walkers. A follow up shot cleared the door of the jeep and Pam promptly emerged from its interior, breaking into a sprint as soon as her feet touched the road. As she ran, she tried to lift her own weapon up, aiming toward the walkers advancing in front of her. She fired a few lazy shots forward, striking only air or injuries that didn't seem to bother her attackers. Jerry yelled at her to run and Pam broke into an even faster stride, barreling toward the truck and vaulting herself upwards to its upturned top in one quick movement. The woman collapsed onto her front as soon as she steadied herself, breathing deeply against its surface, with her breath slowly giving way to sobs. The sound of gunfire slowly ceased, and Jerry silently gestured to the others to lower themselves closer to the truck top.

The five huddled at the centre of the truck, backs and shoulders pressed against each other, each of them facing out in a different direction. Occasionally, one of them would kick away the bloody fingers of one walker who had managed to grasp a hold of the upturned truck's edge. Sometimes, the more persistent walker would require a rifle butt to the face. Jerry had instructed them not to fire their weapons. Beneath them, the hungry snarling of the dead seemed to rise and fall in waves. Painstaking minutes bled into excruciating hours. Daylight faded and an unusually cold summer's night set in. On the ground, some walkers waned of their efforts and splintered off from the swarm. As more hours passed and the sleepless night gave into dawn, the snarling beneath had died down to a faint din. Jerry silently rose to a squat and arched his neck up, peering down to the street below. Sasha watched his eyes intently, then observed him rise cautiously to a half stand. He crept forward toward the truck's edge quietly, right arm ready for his machete at his side. Finally, he came to the very edge of the truck and breathed deeply, turning back to the group with something close to a smile.

"Looks like we got lucky," he said with obvious relief. "We've got enough stragglers to keep us entertained here, but we can break through. We can be back underground by noon."

Sasha herself now stood up and crept toward the edge, steadying herself next to Jerry as she peered over the edge. A dozen or so walkers remained beneath their feet, scattered around the truck's edge, scratching bloody streaks into the vehicle's paintwork. Sasha moved toward the far end of the truck, pulling her machete free of its scabbard. Jerry followed her silently.

"What are you doing" Tyreese asked, now at the truck's edge.

"We can't waste the bullets," Sasha began, "Someone needs to get down there, cause a distraction 'til we're all back on the ground. Then we can just cut through."

"I'll go," Tyreese offered simply.

"No," Sasha began, "You're not fast enough. I'll do it."

Tyreese shook his head slightly, then sighed.

"It's what's going to happen," Sasha confirmed to him, dropping to a squat as she lowered her machete over the trucks edge. Sasha brought the blade down hard against the truck's loading door, sounding out a loud metallic thud.

"Hey!" she yellowed loudly down at the walkers beneath her. She drew the attention of the first easily enough, then the rest soon followed. In less than thirty seconds, all but two of the most nearby walkers had converged at one side of the truck.

Silently, she sheathed her machete and turned to Jerry, then Tyreese. She nodded silently and offered a half smile, Tyreese managing an even less than enthusiastic effort back. She strode past him, Jerry following, bringing his rifle to a firing position before him. Tyreese dropped to the truck's edge, smashing the head of his hammer down hard against the loading door. The others braced themselves nervously in the centre, as the snarling sound of walkers fought it out with the pulsing thud from the hammer.

Sasha reached the other end of the truck and dismounted quickly, landing on her feet and breaking into an immediate run. She turned direction and made her way to the front of the truck, keeping her distance from the crowd of distracted walkers who were now clawing upwards in the direction of Tyreese.

"Hey!" she called out at them, now a safe distance away. The dead turned their attentions quickly and made toward her in a broken staggered mob.

Sasha grabbed at her machete and waited until the first walker neared her, bringing the blade down quickly. She pulled the machete free and took out a second walker in another quick and brutal movement. In the near distance, she saw Tyreese disappear from view as the last of the group hit the ground. She struck at a third walker who had made it to within grabbing distance, but only awkwardly slashed at the face. A second well aimed strike put the thing down for good. Tyreese and Jerry had now arrived at Sasha's side and the three dispatched the remaining walkers in a succession of deft and bloody movements.

With the threat gone, Sasha meant forward and grabbed at her knees, panting out the exhaustion. After what seemed like an eternity, she stood upright once more and looked at the group around her. All four of them seemed preoccupied with something else and she followed their gaze to the a grisly sight in the distance. It was Eddie. Or at least what remained of him. The walkers had eaten down to the bone, with only a few scraps of pink flesh still clinging to his skeleton. One of his arms lay some twenty feet from the rest of his body, and his head and been pulled clean from his neck and fought over a few feet from his remains. A deep red halo of blood slicked the ground around it. Focusing, Sasha could make out the odd piece of skin or hair scattered about on the still wet film of blood. Even the skeleton had fared badly; some bones broken open and others gone entirely. Sasha tried to force her eyes away from the sight, but found herself transfixed. Her eyes scanned further and eventually fell upon a sight that horrified her further. A single walker remained from the swarm, hunched over against the the burnt out wreck of a car

She spied a single walker remaining from the swarm, hunched over against the burnt out wreck of a car. In its lap, Sasha could make out something red and wet. The walker picked at it with its fingers, flesh splintered at the tips to reveal stained yellow bones beneath. It brought pieces of the red tissue to its lips, then snapped at it with what was left of its teeth. Sasha again found herself transfixed, eyes slowly surveying the walker that now lay bloated and fugued as it picked at the last of Eddie's remains. A shot rang out and walker's exploded into yellow and red fragments. Sasha's weapon remained in her hand, unfired. Only Jerry could manage a shot like that from this distance. She would thank him later.

The group reconvened in silence, picking up what weapons remained and slowly fell in line behind Jerry. Pam had said something about wanting to collect Eddie's gnawed remains, but the group had ignored her and she'd eventually fallen into silence too. In fact, the group didn't utter more than a few words during their entire trip back to the bunker. When they had returned home, those that had remained behind underground had been given only brief answers on Eddie's demise.

For the next three weeks, only Jerry ventured out top side, and only then strayed no further than his own backyard and home. Sasha and her brother had later joined Jerry on a sweep of the neighbourhood and the group had resigned to pick through only the nearest of houses ever since.

This morning, the group were out on one such run, Tyreese and Jerry among them. Pam had volunteered to accompany them and in what had perhaps been a gesture intended to impress her, so too did Larry. Neither Jerry or Tyreese seemed particularly against the idea. After all, it was a simple sweep. They'd done seven sweeps in as many weeks and up until today's one, Sasha had been a part of every one of them. After their experience in the city, she'd learned to limit her enthusiasm, but the most recent runs had proved refreshingly uneventful. In fact, during her last run, they'd encountered only one stray walker during their entire scout. Things were still grim up there, but perhaps the tide was finally turning. Tyreese had lamented about being able to move top side soon, to barricade a house, then push out and annex the nest. They might even be able to take a whole block in time. Jerry had reminded him they were still sitting comfortable where they were, and although she tended to agree with him for now, the thought of another seven months spent underground wasn't one she wanted to entertain.

"Bon appetite."

Ned slapped a bowl of one of his indistinct concoctions in front of Sasha. She peered at it for a second, inspecting its vague yellow hue and suspicious freeze dried morsels, then took a spoon and filled it with a small film of the liquid. It didn't taste particularly bad, it just didn't taste of anything in particular. But it was warm and it didn't disagree with her stomach, so she took another mouthful, then a third, then a fourth. Ned stood and watched her from the kitchenette, a proud smile slowly creeping onto his face as he watched her eat.

From the far end of the bunker, the sharp hissing of the shower finally ceased. After a moment, the foldaway door opened loudly in its frame as a ringing wet Kim stepped out of the poky cubicle, draped from shoulder to toe in a towel, another tied indulgently in her hair. Kim walked through into the kitchenette without a word, her wet feet slapping quietly against the metal of the floor. She passed Sasha and Ned without saying anything, ignoring Ned's efforts of greeting completely. Sasha watched from her space at the dining table as Kim busied herself in one of the storage hampers, pulling miniature bottles and sachets from one of the boxes. After a few seconds, Kim made off with her loot and headed toward another folding door, this one to the small private bedroom she shared with Jerry, stepped in, then pulled the door shut behind her.

"Maybe she heard you," Ned suggested. "What you said about her and Jerry."

"Maybe," Sasha replied, uninterested either way.

Another brief silence fell over the bunker. It was the usually silent Guido who finally broke the quiet.

"They're back," he said simply, gesturing upward with his rifle at the bunker's hatch door, it's handle now turning slowly. The familiar creek of heaving metal sounded as the handle turned to a full rotation and the hatch door was pulled happen. What came next was anything but routine.

Sasha heard the screaming first. It was a woman's voice. Pam's. Then she heard the snarling. She got to her feet and grabbed one of the racked rifles from the wall next to the sleeping bunks. She slung the sling over her shoulder, then raised the weapon at chest height in front of her, advancing toward the access ladder beneath the hatch door. Guido stood beneath it, lit it up by a slight beam of sunlight from overhead. He was straining his eyes to see the commotion above him. Sasha moved in beside him and squinted up.

She saw only sky at first. A clear blue sky with a faint wisp of cloud. And then she saw the walker. It came into view with its back towards her and its form soon engulfed the entire hatch panel. And then she saw it fall, pushing herself and Guido clear of its landing in the two second she had to act. The walker hit the ground hard, its torso and abdomen shattering open like a ripe squash. It's limbs snapped into useless appendages on impact, it's neck too. It's head still functioned, mouth snarling loudly, only now it sat at a near ninety degree angle, ear pushed against the shoulder. Sasha pulled a knife from her side and rushed toward the thing, slipping the blade in neatly through the eye socket until it connected, then speared, the brain. She glanced upwards again. This time she saw Tyreese, arms locked in a struggle with another walker, both framed by the same brilliant blue sky she had seen only moments earlier.

"Tyreese!" she called out, raising her rifle upwards as though she might be able to chance a successful shot at her brother's attacker. There was no answer. She shared an anxious glance with Guido. Behind him, Ned was standing motionless, a blunt kitchen knife clasped in his hand. A few feet away, Kim stood in the doorway of her and Jerry's bedroom, hair and body still bundled in towels.

"Tyreese!" Sasha called out once more. Again there was no answer.

A long moment followed. And then a single gunshot sounded from above. And then, suddenly, there was the deafening clatter of of metal as many hands and feet began to descend the ladder. Sasha saw Pam was the closest, and stood back as she descended the ladder. Next came Tyreese, followed by Larry, then finally Jerry, who struggled to seal the hatch door above him. Sasha gave one final glance upwards and saw the blue sky disappear from view as walkers engulfed the space above her. She saw dead fingers trap at the hatch door's edges as it was finally closed shut.

Now back in the din of the bunker, Sasha shook her head and forced herself to focus. Guido had resumed his position at the feet of the ladders, keeping his rifle aimed toward the door. Kim was still standing dumbfounded in the bedroom doorway. Above, the sound of dead hands pounding against the metal of the hatch opening seemed almost deafening. On the floor, Larry was now sprawled out on his back. He was bleeding, and not moving. Jerry reached into his neck to feel a pulse, then shook his head after a moment.

"No," Pam said weakly and covered her hands with her face as she fell into a deep, near silent sob.

Jerry's eyes met with Tyreese's and he nodded in silent agreement. Tyreese reached for his hammer as Jerry gently wrapped the fabric of Larry's jacket around his head. Behind them, Pam's sobs grew louder. With Larry's head now concealed by the bloodied linen of his jacket, Tyreese raised his arm high above him and brought the hammer down in one quick movement. It was quick, instantaneous, but the sound itself was sickening. Pam's sobbing became louder, drowning out the pounding sound of the walkers overhead. Sasha didn't know which noise was worse. It seemed one or both proved too much Jerry, and Sasha watched as he stood up silently, put a hand of thanks on Tyreese's shoulder and then made towards the bedroom. He pushed Kim out of the way forcefully as he passed, pulling the door to behind him.

Pam continued to sob, until Ned gentle made his way towards her, pulling her into an embrace. She fell face first into his chest, her cries stifled by the fabric of his shirt. Tyreese placed the hammer down on the floor beside him and then stood up, moving towards Larry's bunk. Without speaking, he stripped the thin mattress of its sheet and returned to Larry's body. Tyreese squatted at Larry's feet and began laying the sheet down on the ground next to him. Sasha moved and did the same at the remains of Larry's head. In one quick movement, the two hoisted Larry's corpse onto the sheet and wrapped his body in the bleached blue fabric. Even with the jacket wrapped around his head, blood had still managed to seep through the fabric and had now stained through to the blue fabric of the bedding.

The group then fell into an even deeper silence. Even Pam had stopped sobbing. Above them, walkers continued to pound away at the metal of the hatch door, their moans loud and audible through the inches-thick steel. Finally, Sasha traced her eyes up to meet Tyreese's.

"What the hell happened up there?"


End file.
